


Cut Clean Dry

by MelodramaticMrTails



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Facial Shaving, Hand Jobs, M/M, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 08:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20061292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: Slade wants Jason to shave. Jason doesn’t know how to use a fucking straight razor are you kidding me.





	Cut Clean Dry

**Author's Note:**

> another cross post from my tumblr jtredactedsionis!

The smell of coffee wakes Jason up first thing in the morning _again_. He doesn't even drink coffee but it smells potent enough that he just can't sleep through whatever pitch black caffeine overdose Slade brews every morning. Sharing a hotel room was a mistake. He sits up, giving Slade an annoyed look from where he sits behind his newspaper.

"Good morning to you, too, sweetheart," Slade says with little inflection. Jason ruffles his hair tiredly. He's an early riser but fucking christ, they were out all night tracking. When did Slade even sleep? This shouldn't be taking this long. "Shave your face."

"'cuse me?" Jason answers mildly.

"Your face," Slade repeats. "Shave it." Jason rubs his chin. He doesn't grow facial hair particularly fast but it has come in quite a bit since they started this job. He didn't expect to be living out of a hotel room for several weeks.

"What's wrong? Don't like 'em fuzzy?" he asks sarcastically.

"You keep giving me beard burn when you eat me out," Slade answers. Jason snorts a laugh.

"You ever ask for anythin' nicely in your life?" he asks. Slade lowers his paper a little to look at him, arches a brow, then lifts his paper again.

"No," he says.

"Got a razor?" Jason asks.

"Bathroom," Slade says. Jason heads off tiredly to the bathroom and shortly after, comes right back out, face covered in shaving cream. He flicks the straight blade out with an unamused expression.

"Really?" he says.

"'Really' what?" Slade replies without looking.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Jason scoffs irritably.

"Shave," Slade says.

"What year is this thing even from? I don't know how to use this," he answers. He barely knows how to use a regular razor much less this torture looking device.

"You're good with knives," Slade says, turning a page of his paper. "Figure it out."

"_This_ isn't a knife," Jason assures him shortly. "I'm gonna end up slittin' my own throat before anythin' else. Do you seriously use this every mornin'?"

"Every morning," Slade confirms. It's definitely sharp as shit, Jason doesn't need to test it to know that. He shouldn't be surprised, Slade is just that kind of person. He lowers his paper again to give Jason a look before finally folding it closed and putting it down. He gets to his feet and holds his hand out as he approaches. "Give it."

Jason hands it over. Slade pushes him back into the bathroom.

"Oh what, you gonna do it for me?" Jason asks. Slade flicks the blade back out of the handle and Jason realises, a little too late, that's exactly what he's going to do. He's not sure how to feel about this.

"Whatever makes you bitch less," he says, grabbing Jason right below the jowls and turning his head to face the mirror. Jason scowls a bit but braces his hands on the counter without any real complaint. He doesn't feel like having to run out to get a razor and letting Slade do it doesn't sound completely awful. Yet.

"Wouldn't this be easier if I was sittin' or somethin'?" he murmurs.

"You don't learn that way," Slade says. Jason looks at him out the corner of his eye instead of the mirror but again, he doesn't really have any reply to that. This is weird. Slade rinses the blade and he tips Jason's head back a touch. The cold metal against his skin feels exceptionally strange when it's someone else holding it and Jason tries not to wince. Yeah, definitely sharp.

If Slade's idea was to actually teach him how to use this thing, it's not working. Jason's way too distracted with Slade's hand on his face and his skilled, unhurried hand welding the straight razor; that steady and unwavering look in his eye as he works. Slade is an intimidating man, sure, even Jason can admit to that, but damn he's sexy. It's too fucking early for this.

"This how you taught your kid?" Jason asks, more to distract himself from where his mind wants to stray. Slade rinses and wipes the blade after each stroke, keeping it clean and sharp. Jason isn't worried about how sharp it is in Slade's hands.

"No," Slade says. "I wasn't there for that." Yeah, or, you know, Jason could just put his foot directly into his own mouth. That works, too.

"Right," he murmurs. "Sorry."

"But I imagine people don't generally get hard ons from this," he comments. Jason's face goes unnaturally pink. "But you are a weird kid."

"You're one to fuckin' talk," Jason scoffs back.

"Don't move so much," Slade says. Jason settles himself. It's not so much the act of shaving that's getting to him but rather the off brand intimacy. Having so much of Slade's attention like this, having his hands and eyes on him so firmly, makes his blood boil. It doesn't happen often. That's not the kind of man Slade is.

Jason's never particularly cared about the _quality_ of his shave before, as long as it looked half decent and didn't bother him, but he does have to admit this feels pretty nice. It leaves his face smoother than usual which, while strange, doesn't give him that raspy feeling. Okay, sure, he can see why Slade does this every morning. Jason's not going to but he gets it. Weird old bastard that he is, he's usually set in his ways for a reason. Not having any knicks is surely more from Slade's skill than the blade itself, though.

He definitely would have cut himself way more than usual with that thing.

Slade grabs his jowls and rolls his face to make sure he's gotten everything in the mirror. He rinses the blade again and Jason curiously feels his own face. He rinses but before he can do much else, Slade reaches down to grab his semi-hard cock. Jason jolts a little and he looks at Slade in the mirror mildly. The hand squeezing him makes him close his eyes with a shudder, though. He pushes the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down under his cock and Jason turns an awful shade of pink as his cock is rested on the cool counter.

"At least you stay well groomed here," Slade comments, running his fingers through Jason's public hair and coming to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand follows the trail of thick hair up his stomach and pushes his shirt up as he goes. Jason shivers as Slade squeezes one of his pecs before moving on to pinch a nipple.

"Hey, gotta stay lookin' nice for you, babe," he says but it doesn't come off near as sarcastic as he wants it to. Perhaps that was a little closer to the truth than he likes. Slade strokes his cock in long, slow tugs as he urges him more erect. His fingers brush against the piercing just below the head and Jason's breath grows more laboured by the second.

Having to watch himself in the mirror in nothing short of embarrassing but the trade off, Jason guesses, is watching where Slade's eyes stray and cling and _consume_. He rolls a nipple under his thumb and smears the precum beading to his tip down the length of his cock until it's shiny and glistening with it. Jason groans weakly as he tilts his head back against Slade's shoulder and ruts into his hand.

"Come for me," Slade says, that low, grumbly tone right in Jason's ear. Hard to say no to that, Jason groans deeply, arching his chest out, as he comes in Slade's hand, marking the counter with his cum. He bites his lips briefly before letting out a long huff of satisfaction.

It's too fucking early for this.

"Clean up," Slade says, already rinsing his hand in the sink. "We have more work to do."

"I'm not doin' anythin' before a smoke," Jason replies as he stuffs himself back into his sweats. Slade kisses the back of his neck and he shudders again, catching that intense stare of his in the mirror. He drags a finger down Jason's newly shaven, smooth cheek and down to the underside of his chin- almost like appreciating his work. Or Jason maybe.

"Clean up, have a smoke, _then_ let's get back to work," he says instead. Jason scoffs minutely but doesn't disagree. Slade leaves Jason to shower on his own. He offers Jason a cigarette and shot of whiskey when he comes back out, though.

Truly, Slade is a strange man.


End file.
